it, and what--"

"And did you hear my frogs?" interrupted his hostess.

"Of course he didn't, Felicia," broke in Peter. "What a question to
ask a man! Listen to the croakings of your miserable tadpoles with
the prettiest girl in seven counties--in seven States, for that
matter--sitting beside him! Oh!--you needn't look, you minx! If he
heard a single croak he ought to be ducked in the puddle--and then
packed off home soaking wet."

"And that is what he is going to do himself," rejoined Ruth, dropping
into a chair which Peter had drawn up for her.

"Do what!" cried Peter.

"Pack himself off--going by the early train--nothing I can do or say has
made the slightest impression on him," she said with a toss of her head.

Jack raised his hands in protest, but Peter wouldn't listen.

"Then you'll come back, sir, on Saturday and stay until Monday, and then
we'll all go down together and you'll take Ruth across the ferry to her
father's.

"Thank you, sir, but I am afraid I can't. You see, it all depends on the
work--" this last came with a certain tone of regret.

"But I'll send MacFarlane a note, and have you detailed as an escort of
one to bring his only daughter----"

"It would not do any good, Mr. Grayson."

"Stop your nonsense, Jack--" Peter called him so now--"You come back for
Sunday." These days with the boy were the pleasantest of his life.

"Well, I would love to--" Here his eyes sought, Ruth--"but we have an
important blast to make, and we are doing our best to get things into
shape before the week is out."

"Well, but suppose it isn't ready?" demanded Peter.

"But it will be," answered Jack in a more positive tone; this part of
the work was in his hands.

"Well, anyhow, send me a telegram."

"I will send it, sir, but I am afraid it won't help matters. Miss Ruth
knows how delighted I would be to return here and see her safe home."

"Whether she does or whether she doesn't," broke in Miss Felicia,
"hasn't got a single thing to do with it, Peter. You just go back to
your work, Mr. Breen, and look after your gunpowder plots, or
whatever you call them, and if some one of these gentlemen of elegant
leisure--not one of whom so far has offered his services--cannot manage
to escort you to your father's house, Ruth, I will take you myself. Now
come inside the drawing-room, every one of you, or you will all blame me
for undermining your precious healths--you, too, Major, and bring your
cigars with you. So y